Everything I've Learned
by The Pirate Captain Rose
Summary: Karen's father finds out about her relationship with Holly, and he furiously interrogates the child. Slowly, she recounts the full story, sifting through what she may and may not tell her father- along the way, reflecting on everything she's learned from this school year… none of which was on the exam.
1. How to Not Be Nervous

**_Everything I've Learned_**

_Karen's father finds out about her relationship with Holly, and he furiously interrogates the child. Slowly, she recounts the full story, sifting through what she may and may not tell her father- along the way, reflecting on everything she's learned from this school year… none of which was on the exam._

**_M/English/Romance & Angst/Karen/Holly_**

**_Author's _**_**Note:** I'm not the world's best fanfiction author. In fact, I'm a complete amateur. Please pardon me if I get a bit out of character; I'm not used to writing with pre-structured characters. Do let me know, though- I would really love the criticism. The fic is rated M for very strong language, ~adult themes~ (although smuttier scenes will not be terribly explicit), and all that jazz that happened on the show anyway (so if you could handle watching the show, you'll be a-okay here). Love you all ~R_

_**Disclaimer:** Karen, Adrian, and Holly- along with any other characters referenced- are copyrighted property of BBC. I am making no profits from this fiction, nor do I intend to claim the plot as my own._

**Chapter One- How to Not Be Nervous**

* * *

Nervous.

On the first day of class, Holly—Ms. Shawcross—asked us to write about one word that described a moment in our life. Any moment. And why.

When I was little, when my mum and dad were together, we always went to this big, beautiful beach. I felt so small hidden in the sand. It was safer there, where the only people who could see me were little crabs and ants and things living just below the surface. The world was so big, and I was so small, and it made me so nervous. I think nervous is different from scared. I wasn't scared.

After my parents split, and my mum moved to god-knows-where with god-knows-whom, I went to the beach by myself. I swam out too deep. I didn't want to see the shore anymore- the shore was where the worst things were. I was nervous then, too. I'd never been out swimming without Mum right beside me, making sure I couldn't drown. I'd never even been out to water that went above my shoulders. I was so nervous, though, that I was shaking, and the shaking only made me swim faster. By the time I decided I wanted to go back, I was out too deep. That's when I got scared.

There was a buoy a few metres away- one of those big metal ones with the numbers and the bells and the little starfish crawling all over. Climbing on to there, I was scared. It felt amazing, and so scary, and so much better than being nervous. I decided I couldn't go back to being nervous then- nervous was too… in the middle, too particular. Scary had a whole spectrum of adrenaline.

So I rejected the offer of the kayakers to bring me back to shore. They didn't scare me enough. I waited until I stopped shaking- until the nervousness was gone- and I dove back into the water, headfirst, and swam back to shore scared as bloody hell.

I was nervous at first, trying to talk to Holly. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to be friendly with my teacher; I wasn't sure if she was allowed to be friendly with her students. We didn't even speak until the fourth art club meeting. A full month of knowing her before I abandoned being nervous. I could only do it that day because of the beach- I was painting it, or at least, the way I remembered it- and it reminded me of nervousness and fear and the bad things and the good. I thought… I thought Ms. Shawcross must be nervous going into class. No, that's wrong. I knew she was nervous. The boys tormented her- god, they're so juvenile. But I thought maybe if she knew we weren't all so unintelligent, she could stop being so nervous. Maybe she'd even start being scared.

She'd read about the nervousness and the fear in my essay a month back. I really hoped she'd remember… partly for the sake of making my point, and partly because I liked thinking I mattered enough that she'd remember something like that. I really do think that she did. That's why I didn't tell her not to be nervous that day in art club- she knew what I wanted to say. I think she could see it in the painting, or maybe in me. Maybe in her.

I still have the essay. I got it back later than all my classmates; the first line of ink was faded away, like it'd been read so many times over that the words needed to sleep. _Nervous, I think, defined my childhood because I changed when I abandoned it_. If I had to write the essay now… I'd say Holly. Holly defined my adolescence because she taught me how to decide what I feel: how to abandon the things that make me worse, and define my own life and change myself. She taught me the difference between liking how the fear made me see the world, and liking how the fear made me feel.

She taught me that I didn't like being afraid. I liked how being afraid made other feelings disappear. From that day at the beach, that day just a few months shy of my tenth birthday, I started systematically replacing everything with fear. I liked testing limits. I liked the rush.

But that changed after a while, too. I guess the more I tried to be afraid, the less I really was. The game was too easy to beat, but I didn't know how to move on. I was just stuck there- unhappy with being safe, unhappy with being afraid. In need of something new. In need of Ms. Shawcross. Holly.

My father's hand slams down on the table before me. "Are you planning on answering anytime soon?" He demands, barely choking the words out between furious huffs. "What the _fuck _were you thinking when you started all of this?"

I don't know how to give him the words in a way he'll understand.

"I was thinking of how to not be nervous. And then how to not be scared. Holly-"

His hand slaps the name out of my mouth. "You are not on a first-name fucking basis. She's your _teacher_, for chrissakes! Start over. What the _fuck_ were you thinking?"

"How to not be nervous and scared. _Ms. Shawcross _showed me what came next. What was better than being afraid."

He doesn't ask what, but I see the question in his eyes. If he asks me, I'll have to tell him that she makes me happy, and if he wants to continue the interrogation and the following punishment, he can't think about me as someone with feelings.

But he's wondering: _and what was that? What came next?_

Loving.


	2. How to Love the Context

_Everything I've Learned_

Karen's father finds out about her relationship with Holly, and he furiously interrogates the child. Slowly, she recounts the full story, sifting through what she may and may not tell her father- along the way, reflecting on everything she's learned from this school year… none of which was on the exam.

M/English/Romance & Angst/Karen/Holly

_Author's Note: _Thank you very much for reading and reviewing, Mimi-Chan25! Sorry for the delay- I'm finally out of school, so I'll have more time to write now. It's short, but brevity is the soul of wit, so without further ado, I give you chapter two.

_Disclaimer: _Karen, Adrian, and Holly- along with any other characters referenced- are copyrighted property of BBC. I am making no profits from this fiction, nor do I intend to claim the plot as my own.

Chapter Two- How to Love the Context

"Who gives a fuck about _scared_ and _nervous_? You SHOULD have been scared! What could have _possibly_ gone through your head to make you think that was right?!"

"It's all in the context…" I whisper.

My father is yelling in response, but I'm not hearing the words anymore. I don't want to; I don't care. I know everything he's saying. _It's wrong, it's disgusting, fucking dyke, what context, fuck context, she's your teacher, you've ruined her life, _and on and on. He doesn't get it. It's all in the context.

I started it all. I asked Holly to the art exhibition. Teachers aren't supposed to see their students outside school, but I thought… Thought maybe it was okay, because of the art project. We were meant to study artists we loved, really lovely artists who never really got recognized, and talk about why they were never famous. I talked about the sculpture of the man with the big hands. I thought it was all in the context.

Holly saw that I kept going back to that sculpture. I just kept glancing back at it- it seemed new every time. She took my hand and led me back to the sculpture, looked at me questioningly- as if to ask what was so special about it.

"See how her eyes are half-open? She's not looking at the guy. It looks like she's looking back in the ocean, wondering why he pulled her onto the rock. Like she's disappointed. Like she didn't want to be saved. And his hands… he played God. He decided she should live, and now he holds her. Controls her. But it's not about sex or anything—look how his eyes are locked on hers, not on her lips or chest. It's like… she wants to trust him, but she can't. Maybe she trusted someone else once, someone lost in the water. And she was just trying to follow the person who loved her for real. So… the sculpture, it never got famous because it's all wrong. His hands are too big, they're both looking the wrong way, and she looks miserable. But when you look at it in context…"

Holly took over then. "It becomes beautiful. It's all in the context."

I know I put Holly in a horrible position. I know people think she took advantage of me. I know we're not supposed to be together, not ever, because she's twenty four and I'm sixteen and she's a woman and I'm a girl and who genuinely finds love at my age anyway?

But it's all in the context. Looking past that she was my teacher, a woman, a woman eight years older than I… she was the first person I trusted. She needed someone to make her feel wanted, needed. She needed someone to trust her, and I needed to trust somebody. After the affair, she felt awful. Unnecessary. Her mum made her feel like she wasn't good enough on her own- she needed somebody. She needed know that she could be happy with somebody. I needed the same.

She was a woman, an older woman, an older woman in a position of authority over me. We were all wrong. But in the context, we were beautiful. We were perfect.


	3. How to Make the Right Mistakes

_Everything I've Learned_

Karen's father finds out about her relationship with Holly, and he furiously interrogates the child. Slowly, she recounts the full story, sifting through what she may and may not tell her father- along the way, reflecting on everything she's learned from this school year… none of which was on the exam.

M/English/Romance & Angst/Karen/Holly

_Author's Note: _Isn't it cute how as soon as I say I'll have more time to write, I don't write any more for a month? This is how you know you're a writer at heart, kids. My lame excuse is this: I've been curled up in my bed crying about my Law and Order: SVU emotions and I didn't want those feelings to get in the way of my many, many Kolly emotions. Meep. Well thank you to everybody who's still reading, and potentially reviewing!

_Disclaimer: _Karen, Adrian, and Holly- along with any other characters referenced- are copyrighted property of BBC. I am making no profits from this fiction, nor do I intend to claim the plot as my own.

Chapter Three: How to Make the Right Mistakes

I don't know why I kissed her.

I don't know why I'd even asked her to talk about the man she'd been seeing. We were supposed to meet at her flat to talk about a fucking assignment- I wanted to link my English essay and my art project. She was going to help me go over it, make sure it made sense with them connected… But I've always let curiosity get the best of me, and there was too much about this man that I couldn't understand. She said he made her happy at the art gallery, but the way she looked away and changed the subject… it didn't fit. It worried me. It frightened me, that she wasn't happy.

The moment she said he was married, I saw something break. Some happy face she'd been wearing had dropped, and I knew she'd been wearing it so long that she'd forgotten who was underneath. I'd never… I'd never felt so torn. I wanted to help her, I needed to help her, and I didn't know how. I hoped that maybe if I just held her hands long enough… I could keep feeling her pulse. And maybe that wouldn't help her at all, but I needed that proof that she was there. She was there, alive, and her heart would keep beating, even if it was broken.

I don't think I'll ever forget kissing her. I took a breath to say something, but I realized too late that I didn't know where to start. I froze like that, and I remember somewhere in the back of my head, someone was screaming, _"Don't do it, Karen, that's a mistake, don't do it, don't fucking do it, do anything else but do not kiss her." _It kept screaming even once my lips met hers. She wasn't responsive at first, but… As soon as I considered pulling away, she kissed me back. And that part of my brain kept on screaming, even though I knew it was too late: I was there, in my teacher's apartment, feeling her breath on my lips and making the best mistake of my life.

It kept screaming when we finally broke apart, while I tried finding the right words to tell Holly exactly what I meant, and it kept screaming when I let myself speak the raw, undecorated truth: _"You make me really happy."_

And it kept screaming. When I lifted my head off her shoulder. When she pulled me back to her, kissing me softly at first, but growing increasingly intense and frantic. When she took a moment to laugh as I lay beneath her and she realized that I'd let her take everything off except my bracelets. When we lay in silence, breathing deeply, both trying to sort out the mistakes we'd just made.

I don't think it stopped screaming until Lorraine made me talk about it. Before then, as long as nobody knew… it was more like a dream. A really amazing dream. Once somebody else knew, though, it stopped being an amazing dream and started being a perfect mistake. And then… it shut up, and I tried not to cry when I realized that I'd never been so happy to fuck something up.

I won't even begin to say that getting involved with Holly wasn't a mistake. In a thousand and one ways, it was a colossal mistake. But the biggest mistakes can sometimes be good, and Holly was, and still is, the best mistake I ever could have made.


	4. How to (Not) Keep a Secret

_Everything I've Learned_

Karen's father finds out about her relationship with Holly, and he furiously interrogates the child. Slowly, she recounts the full story, sifting through what she may and may not tell her father- along the way, reflecting on everything she's learned from this school year… none of which was on the exam.

M/English/Romance & Angst/Karen/Holly

_Author's Note: _I have no excuses this time, whoops.

_Disclaimer: _Karen, Adrian, and Holly- along with any other characters referenced- are copyrighted property of BBC. I am making no profits from this fiction, nor do I intend to claim the plot as my own.

How to (Not) Keep a Secret-

Holly was best at it. Keeping secrets, I mean. She smiled when she saw me, but otherwise gave no indication that there was more to our relationship. Until she hung up my painting.

In art club one afternoon, I caught myself daydreaming about English. Unsurprising, I suppose. I painted a watercolor of the characters in Othello, the text we'd been reading in class. I painted them as mice in a garden. I've always sort of had a thing for gardens. It was rushed, and messy, and I honestly wasn't all that proud of it, but… Holly came over and got very excited about it. She asked if she could keep it, and hung it by her desk in class. It was the first time she'd ever publically shown an interest in me, and even though I knew it wasn't a good idea, I couldn't help feel butterflies every time I thought of it. It meant she thought I was special. It meant she wanted a reminder of me there, with her. It meant she cared.

I pushed Holly's limits, I suppose. I didn't even realize I was doing it, but I would sort of show more and more affection to her as secretly as possible, just to see how much she'd let me get away with. From drawing little hearts in the corners of my papers to "accidentally" dropping my books so I'd have to be the last one leaving the class, and whispering a quick "I love you" before hurrying off to chemistry.

I've never been a big fan of keeping secrets. I think that's what was hardest about this whole mess- keeping it from my dad. After my mum left, we hardly kept anything to ourselves. He knew everything that happened in my life, and I knew everything in his. Then, all of a sudden, I had this colossal secret to keep from him. It was… weird, to say the least. It was scary.

My father is cradling his head in his hands. He stopped yelling at some point when I wasn't paying attention. "Dad," I start, my voice shaking, tears threatening to spill, "I'm sorry I kept secrets from you."

"Karen," he sighs, "that's the least of your problems right now."

I suppose that's why Holly was right. Some secrets are meant to be kept, if only for a short while.


	5. How to Remain Standing

_Everything I've Learned_

Karen's father finds out about her relationship with Holly, and he furiously interrogates the child. Slowly, she recounts the full story, sifting through what she may and may not tell her father- along the way, reflecting on everything she's learned from this school year… none of which was on the exam.

M/English/Romance & Angst/Karen/Holly

_Author's Note: _This chapter and the last one are both very short, but I didn't like the way they went together, so I split them into two very short chapters. Sorry c:

_Disclaimer: _Karen, Adrian, and Holly- along with any other characters referenced- are copyrighted property of BBC. I am making no profits from this fiction, nor do I intend to claim the plot as my own.

How to Stay Standing-

The clock is ticking, and my father still hasn't said anything. It's nearing half-six. Holly said she'd come by to pick me up by seven. We're getting away from here. She's got a new job at a new school, closer to her flat and with better pay, and she's letting me stay with her. There's not a chance I can live with my father now. I've got a half an hour to explain myself to a man I hope to never see again, pack my things, and leave forever.

I stand up, preparing to say everything that's in my mind:

"_Dad, listen, please. Just for a minute. I don't know why I started this mess, but I am the one who started it. So don't blame Ms. Shawcross, okay? I fell for her, Dad. I fell in love with her. And I fell hard. I take responsibility for that, but I can't apologize for it, because I love her with every fiber of my being. She's everything that's ever made me happy, Dad. She makes me really, really happy, and I can't just let you chase her out of my life. Not after I know what life is like with her. Do you remember after Mum left, when you made me make that list of things I loved, to make me smile again? It said watercolor paintings, the way old books smell, swingsets, tea, people with genuine smiles, dewy grass, and scratchy cassette tapes. Holly is all of those things and so much more. She makes me happier than all of them combined, and she loves me back, Dad. She'd make it rain if it meant I could smile and play in the wet grass. She'd paint me a million pictures, and I'd do the same for her. In a heartbeat. I love her."_

But I remain silent. The power isn't in me to make him understand. I want to sit back down, apologize for everything I've done wrong, beg for my father to care. But Holly didn't sit down when the kids in class were yelling at her. She remained standing and walked away.

And that's what I need to do. So I remain standing, walk away, and pack up my things. And I begin counting down the minutes until Holly arrives to take me away from this place.


End file.
